Dead Inside
by Dean'sNerdyAngel
Summary: A one-shot dwelling on Sam's thoughts as he walks about the land of the living, soulless. The real Sammy is dead, according to him, and his vessel is empty. For now.


**I realized that I wrote this over 2 months ago but never got to post! I'm sorry that my stories are so short and they usually are only one chapter, but I'm early in my writing and sticking with a plot in a story is defenitely something I'm struggling with. **

**This relates to Sammy's feelings through the early Season 6. SPOILERS.**

***For Smallville fans out there or people who care* What do you guys think of me writing some Smallville fics? I only just got interested in the journey of Clark Kent, and I've written a few one shots. There's a poll on my profile for your thoughts.**

It was odd to feel nothing. Yet it was so…easy. Sam didn't have to think of Jess, or Madison, or anything, and feel pain, or worry about his brother dying, or the grief of killing innocent people.

The last one wasn't that great, but that meant mistakes didn't discourage him. While Dean preferred to spare all innocent lives, Sam could care less. And then when he thought of when he watched Dean turn to a vampire, while he stood there, the old Sam would feel guilty as hell. But now he barely thought of it, as if it was a catch in the game.

Sometimes he'd get little messages from the old Sam. That told him no, that wasn't him, and what was happening. But the soul of old Sammy would be yanked into the haze of Lucifer's cage. Seeing Dean stare at him all the time, looking for one good reason to shoot him, made him smile slightly.

It was funny how Dean had spent his whole life taking care of Sam, stopping him from dying, and now he was ready to put a bullet through his head.

He didn't mention anything, but he also knew that Dean may have lost Lisa and Ben in his life, which killed him even more. Because the old Sam was always there for him, and now the new Sam wouldn't care if he died.

Three days ago, when Sam had confessed the truth about his feelings, how he didn't care about Dean, or Lisa and Ben, and he'd actually killed innocent people in the line of duty, he saw the hidden hurt that only Dean would have the strength to push it down.

Even though Dean didn't show it, Sam knew he was trying to find anything to help his soul without working for Crowley.

When Sam thought about all the happy things, when he was a kid, and his brother was always there, the little messages would be back from the old Sam.

When he closed his eyes, he saw old Sammy back when before Dad died, his hair just above his eyes, eyes fresh with pain, glaring at him. Tears poured down his cheeks, his body looking beaten and bloody. He was slumped against a dark grey wall, that was matted with dried blood. In his 22 year old form, Sam looked about 10 years younger compared to the power soulless Sam had now.

But the huddled figure, curling into a fetal position, whispered, "How could you let Dean turn? Why did you kill those people? Why can't I control you?"

Sometimes, he'd answer back.

"Just wait."

"STOP! WHY WON'T YOU FEEL ANYTHING?" Old Sam, his soul, was sobbing again, tears mixing with blood, and suddenly Sam was sprawled on his back, shirt ripped off. A shadowy figure (Lucifer?) began to take a knife and cut deep into Sam belly, making him scream in agony. The knife cut a square from his stomach to just below his collarbone, and even though the sight was sickening to any other sane person, soulless Sam, of course, felt nothing.

The shadow peeled off the skin, Sam's eyes rolling back into his head, blood squirting from his mouth. When the skin and tissue was gone, it revealed the young man's ribs, sternum, heart, lungs, and so on. Sam still screamed wildly, still glaring and pleading silently with him.

"It'll be over soon. Dean will save you. I'll be gone."

He saw Sam swallow his blood and he flinched when the shadow started to clutch his heart. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't kill him."

And then the shadow yanked out Sam's heart, and then the vision blurred. New Sam opened his eyes to realize that no more than 30 seconds had passed.

Sammy had only said three words: "Don't kill him."

No detail, no hint of what he meant, just a desperate plea from his downed soul. But he knew who he meant. Of course he did.

"Sam." a voice said.

Sam turned his head to see Dean looking at him, an eyebrow raised, looking a little freaked.

"You okay? You look a little whacked out."

Sam frowned slightly. "Fine, Dean. Just thinking."

The eyebrows raised. "What do soulless people think about?"

Sam turned his back to Dean and began to walk toward the mini fridge, a small smile on his face. "Oh, just little things."

Even though Sam didn't feel, some hidden part of him wanted his soul back, just like he had told Dean. He wasn't Dean's brother, and they both knew it. Which is why both Sam's wanted soul and body to join once again.

The only question was will Sam make a mistake and accidentally, maybe even intentionally, kill Dean. It seemed easy to do so.

And so the real danger of the Sam Winchester without a soul walked about, just waiting.

***Misha Collins will sexually gratify you if you review, just FYI***


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